Earth is a beautiful planet, lush with life, overflowing with energy and ripe for the taking. The Decepticons want to conquer it and harness that energy for their own purposes. The Autobots want to keep it out of Decepticon hands. This forum contains their battles and struggles all across the planet.

Her attention moved from the now blaring signal back to her knees that were still propped up on the seat. Again the femme wrapped her arms around them tightly, every part of her aching, every thought racing. The sound of the chatter coming through the comm line only made her already sensitive audios ring louder eliciting a low moan from the scout. It won’t be long. Just hold out a little longer. He’ll get us there, I trust him implicitly.

Her question concerning the Dinobots’ departure was answered in the affirmative giving her the excuse to let out a heavy sigh of relief. Tracer raised her head slightly and caught his optics when he looked over his shoulder and gave her a warm smile. It reassured her that he would get her to her meeting on time. She could always rely on him when she was in a jam.

At his warning to hang on Tracer lowered her legs from the seat and placed her feet firmly on the floor. She gripped the armrests in an attempt to brace herself from the turbulence from entering the atmosphere surrounding of the planet.

It didn’t take long for the shuttle to begin to shake and nearly toss violently. The quick and fierce movements only brought on another bought of pain causing her to let out a startled cry. Her intakes hitched as she fought to keep calm.

After what seemed like an eternity the shuttle finally passed through the envelope that surrounded the Earth and steadied. The scout let out a moan before she doubled over at the waist, her optics focused on the floor beneath her feet.

The pain that had been brought on by the jarring of the shuttle finally dulled to a mild ache that seemed to be much more tolerable. After a moment of quiet Tracer’s head shot up, her optics bright with surprise. A quick yelp escaped her vocalizer before she rose shakily out of the seat and made her way to the chair next to Smokescreen.

“He. He’s waiting. We don’t have a lot of time, perhaps only 4 breems, may...maybe less."

She turned her attention from the rallybot and focused on the keys of the navigation system. Before she input the coordinates to the rendezvous location she noticed the shaking of her hands. The scout squeezed her hands into tight balls before relaxing her servos in order to type in the area she would be meeting Oil Slick.

Without looking to Smokescreen she let him know how things would have to go once they arrived.

“Smokescreen, I...I need to go alone. If he sees that you’re with me…"

She let her statement linger for a moment before she went on.

“You’ll need to land the shuttle a few miles from the rendezvous point. I think I'll be able to make the remainder of the trip in my alt mode."

It was at this time that she finally cast her gaze to the mech by her side. A pained smile made its way to Tracer’s delicate face. She hoped he would understand the importance that he remained behind. If Oil Slick knew he had accompanied her he would never trust her again, thus cutting her off from the one thing that she completely depended on.

“The meeting won't take long. Once I get what I need and I’m on my way back to the shuttle, I’ll comm you. Please, Smokey, you need to do as I say."

It was out of desperation that she used his nickname, something she never did before.

The trip through Earth’s atmosphere was pretty much what Smokescreen had expected. It was a jarring and bumpy ride down for almost a full breem before the orange glow that surrounded the shuttle finally dissipated and the craft became calm and steady once more with the rallybot still holding on to the controls. “Well, that wasn’t so bad," Smokey spoke aloud to no one in particular as he looked back at Tracer. “You still with me?"

The troubled femme didn’t respond to him, letting out only a moan shortly before jumping up and taking a seat next to him. She then told him that her dealer was waiting and that they only had about four breems at the most for her to get to the rendezvous point to meet him. It was obvious to Smokey that Tracer had received a communique from the ‘Con in question, instructing her on what to do.

Of course, Tracer had instructions of her own, making it very clear on what Smokescreen, himself, had to do. She was sure to emphasize that he needed to remain behind in the shuttle once they had landed a few miles away from the meeting place. The diversion expert let out a sigh, not liking the idea of her going it alone against a Decepticon, especially in her weakened and unstable condition. Fortunately, he had no intention of following her orders as he had plans of his own for this dealer of hers. She would never be alone again. She just didn’t know it yet.

“I understand," Smokescreen replied. It was a lie designed to put her at ease. He took hold of her hand and squeezed it gently, giving her a warm smile before returning his gaze to the forward windows in front of him. He guided the small shuttle down into a mountainous region of Mongolia, a mostly desolate area that would be the perfect place to hide an alien craft from any indigenous prying eyes.

Using the shuttle’s scanners, the rallybot quickly located a small valley within the mountain range and aimed the small craft towards it. “I’ll set us down here, Tracer. This valley is nice and secluded and should provide us with adequate cover," Smokescreen said as he extended the shuttle’s landing gear before finally setting it down on the rocky ground with a gentle thud. He then shut off the ship’s primary systems and turned once again to face the drug-addicted femme.

“Okay, we’re good. Now, from the air I saw that there’s a single route heading south that leads out of the valley. It’s not paved, but you should be able to traverse it." Smokescreen stopped for a moment, placing both of his hands onto her own. “Are you sure you can do this alone, Trace? I’m afraid for you. Just tell me again that you’ll be fine and I’ll believe you."

The diversion expert’s statement was partly true. He was very afraid for her, more than she would ever know. However, the rest was another lie. Even if she swore on Primus, himself, Smokey would never believe that she would be okay, not in her condition. The only way to ensure her safety and, furthermore, to ensure she would never have to meet with this dealer again was if he followed her to the rendezvous point. Tracer would hate him for it at first, maybe even longer, but it was something he was willing to risk in order to help the femme break her addiction and ultimately save her life.

A small smile crossed her features as he responded to the instructions she had given him. That same smile twisted into a pained frown before she let out another low moan. Her optics offlined for a moment until the uncomfortable feeling passed and she felt him take her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. Slowly the cool blue hue of her eyes met his, but she quickly turned her gaze away. He didn’t respond, instead he returned his attention to the forward windows.

Tracer nodded when she heard Smokescreen announce his intended landing location. It was extremely secluded and would work perfectly as a cover for the alien shuttle, concealing it from the prying eyes of any inhabitants.

Once the ship was safely on the ground and the power down process was initiated, the femme couldn’t help but feel a twinge of fear run through her mind. It passed quickly as any and all of the thoughts racing around within her processor consumed the fear.

Tracer’s attention was quickly brought back to the present when Smokescreen revealed that he had spotted a single route heading in the direction she would eventually meet Oil Slick in. The fact that it was not paved meant little to the desperate femme. It just meant she would just have to be much more attentive during her trek.

The blue and white scout had refocused her optics outside of the windows, the whole meeting playing out in the forefront of her mind. She barely noticed Smokescreen asking her if she could do this alone and that he was afraid for her…for her well -being.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’ll be fine. I’ve done this plenty of times."

Tracer cringed slightly at her last words. She truly had been doing this for a long time. For more vorns than she cared to remember. She quickly looked away from her companion, almost ashamed that the statement flowed from her lips so fluently.

“I mean, I can do this. You don’t have to be afraid for me."

She lifted her head back up and looked back into his bright blue optics. The afflicted femme forced a smile as she raised her hand and gently stroked his cheek.

“I swear to Primus that I will be alright."

After a few moments Tracer ran her thumb over the soft metal of his cheek and then stood from her chair. A slight wince made its way to her visage, but she hid it by moving past the rallybot as quickly as possible.

She stopped near the exit ramp and placed her hand on the control panel but paused for an astrosecond. This meeting had to go flawlessly. She needed this drug in order to just function. She let out a faint sigh as she finally depressed the switch and watched as the ramp slowly lowered.

Without looking back to her friend…no he was now more than that…she stepped out of the shuttle and quickly transformed into her vehicle mode and sped off in the direction of the coordinates given to her by her long time dealer.

Tearing along the rough roadway, she couldn’t help but think how much she hated herself for feeding the addiction. That thought was immediately pushed aside when she recalled just how good it felt to be like everyone else.

Oil Slick landed a short distance from the rendezvous point. He would make the rest of the trip on foot to help disguise which direction he had come from, having actually landed a bit east of his final destination. As he walked he did a full systems check. Again he didn’t expect any trouble from Tracer, especially given the withdrawal she was likely going through, but one could never be too sure.

All of his systems checked out, including his chemical sprayers. He arrived at the rendezvous point and stood waiting and watching for the Autobot or anything suspicious. The appointed time had nearly arrived so he suspected his wait would be short.

Smokescreen regarded Tracer with a concerned look as she assured him multiple times that she would be okay. The first two assurances didn’t sound all that convincing while the last time actually sounded like everything would be all right in the end. Smokey had to remind himself that she had been under the influence of Syk for a very very long time and had likely dealt with this dealer of hers on countless occasions. The rallybot didn’t blame her for the addiction she was afflicted with as he understood the need to feel like everyone else. No, he solely blamed the dealer for this. After all, that ‘Con wasn’t giving Tracer the Syk to help her but to help himself get richer with whatever credits he wanted from her.

That’s all about to change, Smokescreen thought confidently as Tracer touched the side of his cheek plate, letting her thumb move across the soft metal. She then stood and made her way to the hatch of the shuttle. She paused for a moment but did not look back at the diversion expert. Instead, she simply activated the control switch that extended the ramp to the rocky ground beneath them. Once she was outside, Smokey got up from his kneeling position and moved to the open hatchway just in time to see her vehicle form streak off down the dirt path going south out of the valley. He waited until she was gone from sight before turning back into the shuttle.

“This meeting will go better than you think, Trace," Smokescreen muttered to himself as he sat down in the same seat the troubled femme had initially occupied when she first entered the craft. The rallybot pulled out his electro-disruptor rifle from subspace and checked it over to ensure it was in proper working order. He then loaded it with one of the appropriate clips he had obtained from the Guardian’s armory before stowing it away once more.

Smokescreen rose from the chair and quickly extended his shoulder launchers that were fully equipped with his usual circuit scrambling warheads. Smokey doubted he would need these, but since the dealer in question could be any ‘Con, including a flier, he wanted to be as prepared as possible. Once satisfied that his two weapons were adequately armed and ready, he retracted them into his back again before stepping to the hatchway. He looked out down the valley as he let out a nervous sigh. He needed this to go well for Tracer’s sake. If it didn’t then the troubled femme would be in even worse shape than she was now. On top of that, she would hate him for it and rightly so since it would all be his fault if his plan failed.

It won’t fail. It can’t, Smokescreen reassured himself before descending the ramp to the valley floor. The hatch then closed behind him as the ramp disappeared into the side of the shuttle. The diversion expert didn’t look back, but remained focused on the rocky roadway in front of him. He took another deep breath before transforming into his Nissan 350Z rally car mode. His holomatter avatar appeared in the driver’s seat as a small blip began to pulsate on a dash board monitor.

The blinking dot represented Tracer, who now had a very tiny tracking device attached to the side of her knee joint where Smokey’s hand had just rested before she departed. She would never even realize it was there, especially not in her present condition. Unfortunately, it was something the diversion specialist needed in order to follow her since the signature inhibitors they both wore prevented his internal scanners from picking up her movements otherwise. It was another one of Wheeljack’s carefully crafted gadgets that actually worked the way that it should, giving off an encrypted signal across a frequency of Smokey’s choosing. No one else would pick it up whether it be a ‘Con or another Autobot.

“Let’s roll out," Smokescreen stated through his avatar’s faux mouth before speeding away down the path that lead out of the valley. Please don’t hate me for this, Trace. I’m doing it for you. I hope you understand one day.

Heavily Encrypted Message from Razorclaw over Oil Slick's Comm Line:

>>”Attention all Decepticons, this is Lord Razorclaw on board the Ultrax. I have beaten Air Commander Starscream in melee combat and thus assumed the role of supreme leader. Regardless of Shockwave’s recent message to all of you, he is not worthy of the throne left behind by Lord Megatron. Only a seasoned, capable warrior and former gladiator such as myself can successfully lead the Empire to ultimate victory over the Autobot suppressors. However, we are being hindered by a rift within the ranks created by the Military Operations Commander. I will need all of your support in order to quash his little rebellion and thus make our forces whole once more. Only then can we hope to eliminate the Autobot threat once and for all. If anyone sees fit to oppose me, you will face a similar fate that has befallen Starscream. Like Megatron before me, I will not tolerate weakness or betrayal. Both will be dealt with swiftly and harshly as I see fit. Consider all that I have said and accept the new Predacon regime and you will be rewarded in the cycles to come."<<

The trek from the valley, in which Smokescreen had set their shuttle down, to her destination took less time than expected thanks to the fact that she was capable of faster speeds than a typical human vehicle. The unpaved dirt covered road was murder on her undercarriage, but that didn’t matter to her, not since she knew that in moments she would be standing before the one mech that could give her exactly what she needed to go on.

Tracer slowed her advance as she approached the intended location and quickly transformed to her robot form. The shifting of parts was almost too excruciating for her to continue, but after a low hiss and a slight groan of pain, the transformation was complete. The scout made the final few feet of her journey on foot.

She emerged from the thicket and made her way to the clearing that Oil Slick was waiting in. The femme stopped her only a few meters from the mech. The pain coursing through her body was almost unbearable, but the only outward expression of it was a slight contortion of her delicate visage. Once the sensation had subsided Tracer stepped closer to her dealer.

The femme pulled out a data slug from a storage compartment on her left leg. She held the small slim device tightly in her hand before she finally raised it so Oil Slick could see it. The scout then gestured to the slug and then to Oil Slick.

“Th…Th…This is the information you wanted as payment. I..I’ve included the repot you requested on the effects of the new mixture. Take it and give me the Syk and then tell me what information you want as payment for our next meeting."

Oil Slick turned as he heard Tracer approaching. She was obviously in some physical discomfort as her approach was a bit louder then usual. Still, she hid it well, only a slight grimace on her face any outward appearance of pain. Of course he had designed the narcotic she had taken so he was well aware of the side affects and possible withdrawal symptoms. The Autobot was simply trying to maintain some dignity, an admirable trait but one that didn’t particularly interest the Decepticon.

The chemist watched and listened to her as she walked towards him. Once she proffered the data slug he took a step towards here and took it in one of his long hands. He brought the slug up to his optics, giving it a cursory visual evaluation. It appeared to be authentic, but he would have to load it into a computer to be fully certain. He would have to take her at her word, for now.

Oil Slick looked back over at her as she demanded more Syk and what his next payment would be. He considered her words for a moment before replying. “First I would like some additional information, face to face, for research purposes. How did the chemical affect you? Tell me. And remember, this is for posterity so be honest. How do you feel?"

Smokescreen raced out of the valley in his rally car mode and headed southeast towards the rendezvous point. Tracer’s signal was several miles ahead of him, which was no problem since the tracking device he had secretly planted on her was capable of being picked up over a distance of up to ten miles before the signal degraded too much to detect. Smokey wouldn’t allow himself to fall that far behind, not with so much at stake.

An infinite number of thoughts invaded the rallybot’s processor as he followed the dirt road away from the mountainous region of Mongolia. Would his plan work not only here in the short term but once they returned to the ships in orbit? Even if he succeeded here, that didn’t necessarily mean he would succeed in weaning her off the Syk. She had been an addict for so long it was probably an alien idea for her to be clean. Of course, even once she was eventually clean, her mental condition would still remain and her suffering from that would endure. It would be all too easy for the femme to fall back into her old habits and then she’d be back at square one again, probably looking for another dealer.

I can’t deal with all that now, Smokescreen thought as he rounded a bend in the roadway. I need to focus on one thing at a time here. First, I take care of this dealer of hers and then I’ll worry about freeing her from the Syk. The diversion expert sped up as he noticed that Tracer’s signal had stopped. She was at the rendezvous point and her dealer was likely there with her.

As Smokescreen closed the gap between himself and the troubled femme, he realized that the sound of his engines would alert the dealer of his approach. Slowing down, Smokey transformed into his robot mode and continued his trek on foot, quietly moving through the tall grasses and brush that littered the landscape. It would take longer to reach the rendezvous point this way, but it was better than being discovered by her dealer. In fact, neither Tracer nor the mystery ‘Con could know that he was nearby until it was time for him to finally act and reveal himself.

Coming upon a large thicket, Smokescreen kept low as he stopped behind the dense clump of trees and tall shrubs. He then knelt down quietly and moved some branches aside with his hand in order to peak through to the other side where he immediately noticed Tracer standing off in the center of a wide clearing directly in front of her dealer. Using his other hand, Smokey pulled out a pair of binoculars and placed them in front of his optics in order to get a better look at the tall, gangly ‘Con in question.

Son of a glitch! Oil Slick! Smokescreen thought, not all that surprised that it was the Decepticon chemical specialist who was Tracer’s dealer of choice. He was the obvious one, considering his ability to create all kinds of chemical agents, usually weapons, but whose talents could easily be applied to addictive drugs, as well. He’s going to be a tough one to beat here. I can’t get into a physical confrontation or I’ll lose my spark for sure. And I’ve got to stay far away from those weapons of his or I’ll end up a melted heap on the ground. No, I have to approach this situation with caution.

As Smokescreen considered his options carefully, he could see that Tracer had handed Oil Slick something small, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was. She’s not offering him credits that’s for certain, the rallybot thought as the Decepticon held the slug up to his optics. What is that thing? It looks like a data storage device of some kind, but if that’s the case then what could be on it? Smokey’s optics widened as a worried expression crossed his faceplate. Could be anything. She could have downloaded something from the Autobot mainframe, likely something important. What else would a ‘Con like Oil Slick want if not credits? Tracer, what have you done?

Smokescreen let the branches in front of him close before placing the binoculars away and pulling out his electro-disruptor rifle. All this time he thought Tracer was going to offer her dealer credits for the Syk and now he finds out that she’s offering him potential information that could put their Autobot comrades at great risk. She was even more desperate than Smokey had ever realized, willing to place her own kind in danger just to satisfy her drug habit. He was very disappointed in her, but his anger was still squarely directed at Oil Slick as he was the one feeding her addiction and taking advantage of her weakness in any way that he could. This had to stop before more lives than just their own were put in jeopardy. This whole situation had become even more serious than expected.

Carefully peaking through the branches once again, Smokescreen kept a close watch on everything that was going on, looking for just the right opening to make his move. He still had a plan to execute, after all, but now he also needed to get the data slug back from Oil Slick’s clutches as well as steal whatever Syk the Decepticon chemist had on him. With enough of the drug in Smokey’s possession, Tracer wouldn’t need to worry about meeting her dealer again, and the rallybot would be able to slowly wean her off the narcotic. It was a bold plan, one that had just become more complicated, but the diversion expert remained undaunted. He was determined to help Tracer out of this mess no matter the risks to himself.

Her hand was shaking again. It was becoming harder to keep them still. She nearly dropped the slug when Oil Slick stepped forward to take possession of the small device, but she held fast. She didn’t need to destroy all of the information before she received her reward.

Reward. How could she even consider the concoction Oil Slick created a reward? At best it was a crutch. At worst it was a means to a slow death.

The mental image of dying a slow agonizing death filled Tracer’s processor. The scout tried desperately to shake the uneasy thought but nothing seemed to help. Everything and anything was filling her mind, all of it moving at the speed of light, it was so hard to focus.

Tracer lowered her hand when the chemist took the data slug from her and carefully looked at it. He seemed to be satisfied with the instrument as he turned his full attention to Tracer herself. A grimace formed on her face as another surge of pain washed over her already sensitive frame. A low groan escaped at the same time she placed a hand over her mid-section. What is he waiting for? Just give me the Syk so we both can get out of here.

After what seemed like vorns Oil Slick finally responded to her request. However, what he said shocked the femme.

“Wha…what? How did it affect me? How can you even ask me that?!"

Tracer’s optics grew bright, but the illumination only lasted for a moment as the pain from her sudden forward movement caused her to fall to one knee. She slowly looked up to the Decepticon and knew that she would never get what she needed until he got what he wanted.

“It didn’t even last as long as the last batch. I can’t even focus anymore."

The femme remained on the ground in front of the chemist, now on both knees. She averted her optics not out of fear, but shame.

“You want to know how I feel. I feel like my whole world is collapsing around me. The pain coursing through every circuit and every nerve sensor is excruciating. It takes every ounce of energy I have just to leave my quarters. I need the Syk just to function. I…I can’t go on without it. All of the thoughts, all of the plans; all of it racing in my processor, I just want it to stop."

Tracer grew quiet as she finally turned her gaze up to Oil Slick. She knew he would feel no remorse or have a care for what happened to her in the end. The chemist was only concerned with gathering information in order to refine and perfect his narcotic.

But she was desperate.

“Please. I gave you what you wanted now give me the Syk and tell me what information you’ll want in exchange for our next meeting."

She raised her hand and placed it gently on her forehead just below the chevron. The pain had now migrated to her cranium causing another low groan to escape her vocalizer.

Oil Slick looked down at Tracer as she spoke. He saw a brief flash of anger on her face before it was buried in pain. He watched and listened as she tried to describe the pain of withdrawal. He was able to glean a few valuable nuggets of information from her ranting and begging, which had no effect on him. Emotions like pity and sympathy just weren’t a part of him anymore. Scientific curiosity was the only thing he felt at the moment. “Interesting."

The Decepticon opened a hatch on his hip and produced a sealed vial. “This sample should be sufficient to maintain you for sometime. It is another new variant, so I will want another full report on the affects as part of the payment." He held the vial down in front of her optics so she could see it, but maintained his grip on it. “The cost of your next batch will be the locations of all Autobots in this system, including orbiting vessels and any Autobots planetside. That information will earn you a significant dose next time that should keep you satisfied for quite some time. I am working on another variant that is quite potent."

The chemist moved the vial down towards Tracer’s hands. “Take it, and speak of our meetings and arrangements to no one or you will never receive any more Syk again, and you know what that will do to you."

Smokescreen carefully watched through the large thicket as Tracer pleaded with Oil Slick to give her the Syk that she so desperately needed. It was becoming harder and harder for Smokey to remain hidden and idle as the troubled femme was clearly suffering more now than ever. The ‘Con, of course, showed no emotion or even a hint of concern regarding how much pain she was in. He only wanted information, no more and no less. It was enough to make the rallybot’s internal fluids boil over in rage, a feeling he seldom experienced but this was an extraordinary situation he now found himself embroiled in, one he hoped had a favorable way out for both him and Tracer.

Just remain calm. You have a plan to execute, Smokescreen thought in an attempt to calm his anger at the sight unfolding before him. He needed to remain focused even as every circuit in his framework felt like they were on fire, compelling him to do something. In fact, he was going to do something, but it had to be a composed and well thought out plan, not an act driven by simple impulse or emotion. It would be hard, but for Tracer’s sake he had to stay in control.

Smokescreen considered all of his options. Whatever he did had to be quick and decisive in order to take Oil Slick by surprise and prevent him from either fleeing or counterattacking. Neither would be acceptable as Smokey needed to get both the Syk and now the data slug away from the Decepticon chemist. He had to be very careful if his plan was going to be successful.

Remaining crotched down, the diversion expert slowly moved forward into the thicket and brought his electro-disruptor rifle up in both hands. He looked through the weapon’s scope and easily lined Oil Slick up in his sights. Smokescreen then watched as the dealer pulled out a vial of Syk from a compartment located on his hip. Really? You wouldn’t happen to have any more in there would you, Slick? The rallybot hoped there was more as he needed as much as he could steal in order to help Tracer remain normal for the foreseeable future and eventually beat her addiction. Once the ‘Con finally handed over the vial to the drug-addled femme, Smokey saw a chance to make his move.

The diversionary tactician was no sharp-shooter, but his accuracy level was high, just not Perceptor high. Still, he was more than confident that he would hit his target from this range without striking Tracer in the process. Taking a deep breath, Smokescreen off-lined one optic while the other remained looking through his rifle’s scope. He then squeezed the trigger thrice, unleashing a trio of electrical energy blasts directly at Oil Slick. Smokescreen then pushed off with both legs and burst forth from the thicket, running at top speed towards the suffering femme and her dealer. For a brief moment, a doubt of what he was doing went through his processor. So many variables had to fall into place to make this all work. However, he quickly pushed any lingering doubts aside and remained focused on the task that was now literally in front of him.

>>Tracer, get down!"<< The rallybot commed to her as he fired off more shots at the Decepticon chemist. If even one energy blast struck the gangly mech it should incapacitate him long enough for Smokey to steal what additional Syk he could and get the data slug back, as well. Then he and Tracer could race back to the shuttle and make their escape unscathed. Of course, things seldom unfolded exactly as planned and Smokescreen knew that this situation would likely be no different.

Tracer remained on her knees as she waited for the chemist’s next move. What she received was devastating, a simple “interesting”. This cold sparked creature had wanted nothing more than her input in order to create a newer concoction which he would provide her once they met again. The scout stared up at the ‘Con and nodded in understanding.

Tracer’s optics widened in anticipation when Oil Slick finally produced the vial she had been waiting for. She watched as the chemist held out it out in front of her and then provided her with an explanation as to what this vial actually held. Over the vorns she had dealt with Oil Slick it was her who he used as a guinea pig to test his new mixtures and variants with. But she didn’t care, not any more. Whatever he was willing to provide she was always glad to take.

With the vial directly in front of her face Tracer’s optics followed and focused on nothing else. His required payment for the next batch was considered to be of high security. However, everything her dealer was saying hardly registered and she simply gave a nod in agreement.

“I’ll give you whatever you want."

Her optic contact with the vial never faltered until Oil Slick finally moved it toward her hands. Slowly, and cautiously Tracer raised a hand and took possession of that most important commodity. Once it was in her hands she cradled it close to her chest and looked back up at Oil Slick.

“I’d never reveal anything to anyone, not now not ever."

Tracer remained on her knees directly in front of the ‘Con, her attention drawn to her hands gripping the vial. A smile made its way to her face as the fear was quelled. The fear that had been welling up within her was the uncertainty of something going horribly wrong.

The scout let out a gasp when she heard three distinct shots that seemed to come from the tree line. Her fear finally manifested itself when she received the short warning to get down from Smokescreen. From that point things seemed to move in slow motion. She wound up dropping down onto her stomach, she then looked over her shoulder seeing Smokescreen charging forward and firing his weapon directly at Oil Slick.

The surprised expression that was on Tracer’s face turned to absolute rage. How could he do this to me? He gave me his word that he would wait for me back at the shuttle. Has he lied to me before?

From her position on her stomach she was still within reach of Oil Slick. If he wished to he could simply take hold of her and use her as a hostage in order to make an escape. With that scenario racing through her processor, Tracer pushed up from the ground and shakily got to her feet. With the vial still gripped in her hand Tracer ran toward Smokescreen. She stopped directly in front of him hoping the rally-bot would either slowdown or come to a complete halt.

While he continued his approach she screamed his name. The once quiet, demure femme was forced out of desperation to turn her ire on one of her most trusted and dearest friends.

"SMOKESCREEN! What have you done?! You’ve ruined everything! EVERYTHING!"

Her tirade dissipated as a thought came to her mind. She quickly turned back around and began to make her way back toward Oil Slick.

Oil Slick nodded as Tracer quickly agreed to his demands for future payment. The addictive properties of Syk were quite impressive to so completely turn an Autobot against her own like this. Of course, Tracer was likely not an ideal Autobot to begin with. Her mental problems and what little he knew of her checkered past definitely spoke to that, but that aside it was still fascinating to see the psychology of addiction. Of course he was more interested in the chemical and mechanical affects of it, which would require a vivisection to truly discover in detail. It was something that would have to wait until this Autobot’s usefulness was completely gone.

The chemist watched the relief wash over her face as she took the vial from him. It was pathetic really, and a lesser being might feel pity for her. Oil Slick had moved far beyond emotions like that however. There was only the detached, clinical interest he took in everything.

Unfortunately for him his interest in Tracer was too deep. He was caught by surprise at the sound of gunfire. His head snapped to look at the source, but he was too late to dodge it. The webs of electricity from Smokescreen’s rifle slammed into Oil Slick. He let out a garbled scream of pain, something he rarely felt, as the electricity coursed through him, shorting out circuits or rendering them unresponsive. As additional shots struck him he dropped to his knees and finally face first on to the ground, his limbs still twitching.

Oil Slick tried to focus his thoughts, but it was difficult. They were clouded, but only partially by the electricity. Something else was interfering as well, something he had not felt in a long time. Rage. It was only a spark, but even a small spark in someone as cold as him was profound.

The Decepticon quickly began rebooting and reactivating systems as the electrical charge in them went out, starting with his mental and sensory capabilities. His optics came online as he saw Tracer running towards the other Autobot. His audio receptors followed as he heard her yelling at him. She turned back to him, saying she could explain to him what had happened. The spark of anger grew a little brighter as his vocal processor came back online. His voice was slightly garbled, but a harsher tone was still discernible, another sign of the spark burning inside of him.

Smokescreen continued his charge as several of his electrical energy shots struck a startled Oil Slick, forcing him down to his knees before the dealer finally collapsed faceplate first on to the ground. The rallybot was pleased that his surprise attack had worked as planned, a small grin forming on his own mechanical visage. That grin faded quickly when Tracer decided it would be a good idea to get back up and run towards him, screaming at the diversion expert that he had ruined everything. Smokey didn’t let her harsh words bother him as he had expected such a reaction. The red and blue racer also knew that a good portion of that response came from her condition more than the real mech that existed just underneath the surface.

Smokescreen slowed down, almost to a halt, as Tracer stopped directly in front of him. He immediately ceased firing and brought his rifle up, expecting her to come up to him and slap him across the faceplate. “Tracer, I..." Smokey started to say, but his words trailed off as he watched the troubled femme turn around and stagger back towards the downed Oil Slick. “Where are you going? Wait!" The diversion expert shouted after her, astonished at her absolute desperation that he had unfortunately made worse by his actions.

Smokescreen burst into a quick run until he had caught up to her. He grabbed Tracer by the arm to stop the anxious femme in her tracks. “Wait here, I know what I’m doing! WAIT HERE!" The rallybot demanded before he hurried past her, reaching the twitching form of the Decepticon chemist within astroseconds. Smokey cautiously knelt down next to the dealer and snatched the data slug from his clawed hand. “You won’t be needing this anymore, Slick," the diversion specialist muttered as the gangly mech’s systems continued to reboot internally. Moving quickly, Smokey then accessed Oil Slick’s hip compartment and reached inside to find another, slightly larger vial of what appeared to be more Syk. “You won’t be needing this, either."

The rallybot grasped both the second vial and the data slug in one hand and got back to his feet just as the chemist’s vocalizer finished rebooting, allowing the ‘Con to utter his threat. Smokescreen looked over at Tracer and waved for her to retreat. “Go, Tracer, go! I’ve got we you need! Just transform and head back to the shuttle. I’ll be right behind you!" Assuming she would do as he said, the diversion expert moved away from the recovering dealer before transforming into his 350Z rally car mode. He then emitted a large cloud of black smoke from his tailpipe to help conceal their escape from Oil Slick. The magnetic cloud would not stop the Decepticon chemist for long, but it would hopefully buy them some time to reach the shuttle and get back up into orbit.

Once the smoke was fully discharged, the red and blue rally car sped away from the scene and quickly caught up to Tracer. “Keep going, Trace! My smoke cloud won’t keep him occupied for very long!" Smokescreen shouted over the roar of his engine. “I’m sorry I lied to you, but I had to do something to help you break free of that Decepticon’s hold he had on you. Besides, you lied to me, too. I thought you were giving him credits in exchange for the Syk not vital information on a data stick!"

Smokey calmed himself as he didn’t want to admonish her too much, especially in her current state of mind. The rallybot reminded himself once again that it wasn’t really her fault as the ‘Con had taken advantage of her condition, feeding the femme’s addiction in order to get whatever he wanted out of her. “I’m sorry, Trace, it doesn’t matter now anyway. I’ve got enough Syk for you to last a good long while, and I have a plan to get you more without ever having to go back to Oil Slick again. Just please trust me! I know what I'm doing."

Tracer had turned her back on Smokescreen and slowly began to head toward the now downed Oil Slick. The shouts coming from the diversion expert didn’t halt her advance; instead she tuned them out in favor of catching the Decepticon in a receptive mood…something she felt would be unlikely, but she had to try.

The scout had made it half way to Oil Slick when she felt her arm being grabbed. The unexpected maneuver caught her off guard making her finally stop. With a blank expression plastered on her face, Tracer looked over at Smokescreen. The demand for her to wait right where she was barely registered, but she complied none the less.

She watched carefully as Smokey rushed the chemist and quickly retrieved the data slug she used as payment in return for the narcotic. Tracer’s optics widened in surprise at the mech’s next desperate move. The red and blue rally-bot began to rummage through Oil Slick’s storage compartment where he seemed to store the Syk, and possibly any other chemicals he would need at any given time.

The action seemed alien to the femme as the only thing she could focus on was the large vial Smokey produced from her dealer’s own storage niche. Once Smokey was finished stripping the chemist of his wares, he looked up in her direction and began to wave her off. The movement registered only after she broke off her gaze from that vial. The femme licked her lips as she finally began to back away at first slowly, and once she was thinking clearly, she turned around and transformed into her GT – 500 Super Snake vehicle mode and quickly took off in the direction of their shuttle.

“This is not happening! This is not happening!"

Tracer began to calm down when she finally heard Smokescreen’s engine rev before he eventually caught up with her and they drove on to their landing site. As the rally-bot tried to explain his reasoning behind attacking Oil Slick, Tracer remained silent. At his accusation that she had lied to him in the first place, Tracer let out a low whimper, but still held her vocalizer. He was right. She had lied to him back on Cybertron and she had been lying to him even after they had reunited back on the Guardian.

“I’m sorry, Smokescreen. I never meant to bring you into this. Once we’re safely on board the Guardian I won’t blame you if you decide you want to dump your excess baggage."

The defeated femme grew quiet as the mech driving beside her explained that with the vial he recovered from the chemist would hold her over long enough and that he had some kind of plan to get her more Syk without ever relying on Oil Slick again. She had to admit that his statement sounded very convincing, but how could he possibly get more of the narcotic.

“Ho…how are you going to get more? There are no other dealers located in this sector…I know I’ve looked."

The duo had made excellent time and soon they were breaking through the tree line and into the canyon where they had hidden the shuttle from prying eyes. Tracer slowed until she finally broke through the thicket and came to a stop a few feet away from the ship’s ramp. The femme transformed back to her bipedal mode and let out a low sigh. She produced the vial she had received from the Decepticon before Smokescreen decided to take everything into his own hands. No, he did it to help me. He’s always helped me when I needed him. This time is no different.

Tracer stared at the small vial in her palm as she addressed Smokey; her optics never deviating from the elixir she had sought.

“Stay out here, Smokescreen. Please. I don’t want you to see me take this."

Smokescreen continued driving alongside Tracer’s GT-500 Super Snake alt mode as they raced as fast as they could back to the shuttle craft that had brought them down on this crazy mission to begin with. They were almost home free...almost. Smokey wouldn’t feel better until they were both safely in the air and back on board the Ark-22. Until then, he kept his sensors peeled for any signs of the Decepticon chemist they had left behind.

“You’re not baggage and I have no intention of dumping you, Tracer," Smokescreen assured her. “I’ve done all this for you. I wouldn’t go this far for anyone else. Only you." The rallybot then considered her question regarding where he would be able to obtain more Syk without Oil Slick’s involvement. Smokey's avatar smiled behind the wheel of his 350z alt mode before glancing over towards her sleek form. “I’m going to make more. I’ll just need some help from a certain mad scientist that’s all."

The help Smokescreen was referring to was, of course, Wheeljack. However, the diversion expert had not yet asked the mechanical engineer if he would be willing to assist in making more Syk. Smokey was confident that the Autobot inventor would say yes, but ‘Jack had already done so much to help them that there was a slim chance he would say no. Unlikely, but still possible.

I’ll promise him anything if that’s what it takes, the rallybot thought as he and Tracer re-entered the valley and quickly approached the shuttle through the surrounding thicket. Smokescreen returned to robot mode and listened as the drug-addicted femme asked him to remain outside the craft so that he wouldn’t have to see her take the drug. The diversion specialist nodded in agreement, giving her a sympathetic smile. “I understand, Trace. Please hurry. We don’t have much time. I’ll be right here keeping watch for Oil Slick if you need me."

Smokescreen then turned around and looked away back down the path that led out of the valley. His sensors weren’t picking anything up yet, but that could change at any moment. Oil Slick had most likely already shaken off the effects of the elector-disruptor blasts and the smoke cloud would only slow his pursuit of them, not stop him entirely. If they didn’t depart soon, the Decepticon chemist might catch up to them, forcing a fight that Smokey wasn’t certain he could win.

In case he does get here before we go, I should destroy this, Smokescreen thought as he peered down at the data slug in his hand. Dropping the small device to the ground, he swiftly stepped on it, crushing it underneath his foot. Sorry, no intel for you, Slick. Smokey then stowed away the other vial of what he assumed was Syk into a secret compartment in his right leg before reloading his rifle in preparation for any possible attack.

Oil Slick heard and saw the Autobot move in on him. He could only slowly regain his faculties as the Autobot robbed him of his payment and an additional vial. The spark of anger found itself well and truly fanned with those actions. What was once a spark became burning embers as now he was both betrayed and humiliated. Systems continued to come back online. His long hands grasped at the ground, his arms pushed him up off the ground. The Decepticon regained motion in his legs and pulled himself up off the ground, staggering to his feet with a grim look on his face.

The Autobots were gone, but it wasn’t difficult to trace their path. They had gone for speed over subtlety, as the tire marks indicated. A cloud of smoke also marked the path they had taken, but he could tell it was no ordinary cloud. Oil Slick jogged towards the cloud, his helmet up. Raising his right hand he fired a fine spray of acid ahead of him. The spray hit the cloud with a crackle as the two elements collided, the acid eating up the cloud particles. As he moved through it some of the smokescreen still clung to him, but lowering his helmet removed it from clouding his vision. He took another few steps before transforming to his motorcycle mode and with a roar of his engine he shot off in pursuit of the Autobots.

While none of the three of them were particularly designed for travel on terrain as opposed to roads Oil Slick did have the advantage of a smaller profile, allowing him to dodge some obstacles that would slow the two cars. This combined with his raw speed allowed him to catch up with Smokescreen quickly. He was slightly startled to see the Autobot waiting by a shuttle. Apparently Autobots were more lax about shuttle security then orbital bounces. Tracer was nowhere to be seen, likely inside the ship prepping for take off. That mean he would have to move fast.

Oil Slick increased his speed, charging at the Autobot. Before getting too close he veered sharply to the right, flipping his alternate form into the air. The chemist transformed in mid-air, wielding his flail like weapon. He lashed out with it, aiming one of the spiked ends at Smokescreen, using the momentum of his speed to add power to the attack. He hoped the blow would put a swift end to the Autobot, but a part of him hoped he wouldn’t. He secretly looked forward to a long, painful fight that would end with his flame of anger being extinguished by the fuel of his enemy.

Smokescreen waited as patiently as he could near the shuttle as Tracer did whatever it was she needed to do inside. Clearly the femme was going to administer the Syk into her systems, but how long it would take to make her feel well again was an unknown variable that made the diversion expert more than a bit nervous. There was a very angry ‘Con out there wanting revenge for what Smokey had done to him. However, it wasn’t just the rallybot who would bare the ire of the enraged chemist. Tracer would also be a target of his merciless wrath. The red and blue mech could accept his own possible destruction if that’s what it ultimately came down to here, but he would not accept Tracer being hurt any more than she already had been by the ‘Con. He had to do everything in his power to keep her safe no matter the cost to his own spark.

The wait seemed longer than it actually had been, but soon the roar of a motorcycle's engine grew louder in the distance. He’s coming, Smokescreen thought as his sensors picked up a Cybertronian signature that was quickly approaching from the south. He brought his electro-disruptor rifle up and aimed it squarely down the path that led out of the valley. Within astroseconds, the monstrous cycle burst through the surrounding thicket and charged directly at him. Smokey opened fire, but his shots missed their intended target as Oil Slick went right suddenly and flipped his motorcycle alt mode up into the air where he then transformed to robot mode and lashed out with his chain flail.

“Oh, slag," Smokescreen was barely able to utter as he dove for cover just as the spike-covered sphere came within inches of hitting him in the cranial unit. Instead, the weapon smashed through his left door-wing, effectively severing it from his back. The diversion expert hit the ground hard, landing on his chestplate as sparks flew out behind him from the damaged area, his pain receptors registering the loss of a body part. “Aaaahhhh! Fraggit!!" It hurt like a broken motherboard, but at least it was an extremity that was useless when it came to fighting. Still, this is not a good start, not at all!

Smokescreen quickly scrambled to his feet and spun around to face his opponent, firing off several shots at Oil Slick from his rifle while at the same time seeking cover behind a nearby boulder. He then quickly opened a secured comm line to Tracer inside the shuttle:

>>"Tracer, we’ve got company out here! Oil Slick has caught up to us and he’s none too happy. Seal and lock the shuttle’s hatch and remain inside while I deal with this slagger. If anything happens to me, I want you to take off immediately and head back to the Ark-22. Contact Wheeljack through an encrypted comm line for any assistance that you might require. Don't worry, you can trust him. He already helped us get down here. Is that understood?"<<

With his message sent, Smokescreen quickly reloaded his rifle. Unfortunately, the weapons Oil Slick possessed were far more dangerous than anything the rallybot had to offer. Thus, Smokey needed to keep his distance and hope to get in a few more lucky shots like before. He considered using his rockets, but they were mainly for surface to air combat and would succeed in not only scrambling Oil Slick's systems but the shuttle’s, as well, which would then trap them on Earth. Not to mention, Tracer would likely also feel the effects and who knows what exactly that would do to her own already fragile and unstable system. No, the diversion specialist only had his rifle, his wits and possibly one more smoke cloud to aid him here, but would those few things be enough?

It’s going to have to be, Smokescreen thought as he then partially stepped out from behind the boulder and opened fire again on the advancing Oil Slick.

Tracer kept her optics on the small vial in her hand as she made her way up the ramp and into the shuttle. She hadn’t heard anything from Smokescreen making her believe that the mech would be fine standing guard. Even if Oil Slick showed up Tracer had every confidence in the red and blue Autobot’s capabilities to hold the Decepticon chemist at bay.

She entered into the crew compartment and stopped. Her eyes finally moved from the vial to the back wall. The scout stayed her position with her optics locked on one of the cabinets that housed some emergency medical equipment. The waiting finally got to her and she broke out in a run to the back wall. She slammed hard into it before falling to her knees and tearing open the sealed door.

Tracer let out a low growl as she tore through the locker in search of the one device that she needed. The loud clangs and crashes told of the desperation the femme felt. Unable to locate the item she required angered her to the point of letting out a quelled scream.

A few minutes passed before she placed both hands on the floor. She offlined her optics as she tried to control the heavy intakes of oxygen. It seemed to take forever but Tracer was finally able to calm down enough to continue her search.

Crawling on her hands and knees to the cabinet on the right Tracer stopped and opened the door. Taking in a deep breath Tracer went to work rummaging through the medical supplies. A broad smile formed on her delicate visage as she pulled out the medical grade syringe she had been searching for. She had one of her own, but unfortunately she left it behind in her quarters back on the Guardian.

With the device in her hands Tracer rose up on her knees and quickly loaded the syringe with the vial of Syk. She was ready for this mixture, as with all of the other concoctions caused a lot of pain upon its initial push, but after a breem or so the pain dissipates leaving behind no racing and random thoughts, no depression and no anxiety. The pain was well worth the results.

The blue and white femme carefully inserted the narcotic, vial and all. She took in a deep breath and raised the device to the main energon line running down the side of her neck. Tracer offlined her optics as she finally pushed the fluid.

There was a familiar intense heat as the chemical mixed with her energon, but as soon as the warm sensation subsided the pain set it. The intensity caused her to drop the syringe and fall back down on her hands and knees.

Tracer let out a pain filled wail as she tried to keep from falling unconscious. The pain had never been this severe, but then again, Oil Slick had been working and reformulating the chemical’s content for vorns. Each vial was a new version and each version caused different reactions.

“Aaaagh! Agh!"

There was no denying this new concoction was much more powerful than any of her previous hits. But she had no time to contemplate the situation as she fell flat onto the floor unconscious. The pain had been too intense to deal with.

Her comm. line activated minutes later but the message never made it through to the downed femme. Smokescreen would have to wait and hold off Oil Slick on his own.

From under the small table Razr finally emerged. The little turbofox had taken refuge there when Tracer and Smokescreen left the shuttle, and he remained there once Tracer returned. The creature was familiar with his master’s actions and kept away until she became amicable again.

Seeing her fall flat onto the floor was something Razr was not used too and so the little turbofox grew worried enough to step to Tracer and nudge her gently with his nose, but he received no response. He tried several times but had no success. Finally Razr laid down close to Tracer’s side and waited.

A slight look of satisfaction passed over Oil Slick’s face as his attack wounded the Autobot. He couldn’t linger on this minor victory however as he was still hurtling through the air. He managed to contort his body so he hit the ground in a crouch on one knee. Rock and gravel crunched under his foot as a small cloud of dirt and plant matter was torn and kicked up by his landing. The Decepticon looked around, taking in the sight of Smokescreen diving behind cover near the shuttle.

If the Autobot was smart he would continue to use his rather annoying rifle to keep him at range. From what he had seen of the Autobot and his attacks led him to believe this was not a front line warrior type and would not be able to hold up well in a close up fight with him. He needed someway to turn the running gun battle into a melee where he could put his chemicals and chain to the task of tearing the Autobot apart.

As if on cue Smokescreen opened fire once again with his rifle. Oil Slick burst into a run, grunting as one of the webs winged him on the leg. The chemist stumbled a bit, but quickly regained his foot and transformed. In his motorcycle mode he would present a smaller target to hit. Charging directly at the Autobot would be suicide and even an indirect route towards him would be difficult with the wide dispersal fire of the electrical nets. He needed to draw the Autobot in towards him.

With a shriek of tires spinning on the ground, kicking up dirt, and the roar of an engine, Oil Slick made and abrupt turn way from Smokescreen and towards the shuttle. He darted towards the side opposite of the Autobot, transforming into a run once he was behind the relative safety of the vessel. The Autobot apparently needed the vessel to return to his mothership. It was also likely that Tracer was onboard it now preparing for lift off. The fact that she had brought this lone Autobot with her indicated to him some high level of trust between them, friendship at the very least. It was a foreign concept to the cold Decepticon, but one he had a passing familiarity with.

That friendship, along with requiring a means to leave this planet, would drive Smokescreen to protect the vessel at all costs. To him there would simply be no choice. Oil Slick lifted his right arm and activated the sprayers mounted on his wrist. A fine stream of concentrated acid shot out, splashing against the shuttle’s hull. Instantly there was a loud crackling as it began eating away at the vessel, sending a toxic trail of fumes into the air. The Decepticon knew the Autobot would not miss this attack and would be forced to counter it. He need only be prepared to pounce once his prey had shown itself. Then he could test his acids on a live specimen. It had been far too long since he had that opportunity and he found himself particularly looking forward to testing them on this subject.

Smokescreen showed little reaction as one of his energy webs grazed Oil Slick on the leg, which only caused the ‘Con to stumble a bit before he returned to his motorcycle alt mode. For an astrosecond, the rallybot thought that his adversary was going to charge directly at him again, but it soon became apparent that this would not be the case. The Decepticon chopper suddenly veered off towards the shuttle where the Syk dealer transformed once more and sought cover on the opposing side of the Autobot craft. All the while, Smokey continued firing but had little success in striking his enemy before the 'Con disappeared from his sights.

“Slaggit!" Smokescreen cursed under his breath as he quickly checked his rifle’s energy levels while keeping a close optic on the shuttle where Oil Slick was now hiding behind. The chemist was way too close to Tracer for the diversion expert’s liking, but at least she was safely locked inside doing whatever she needed in order to get better. Hopefully, she had already injected herself with the Syk and was well on her way to recovering from this desperate bout with her addiction. Unfortunately, time was not on their side and that became even more apparent at the sight of toxic fumes bellowing into the air from the place where Oil Slick had sought cover. It appeared as though the ‘Con was using his chemicals on something, but what?

Oh, no! Smokescreen thought as the obvious answer entered his processor. The maniacal chemist was spraying the shuttle with some kind of acid, which would soon eat right through the hull and expose a likely still recovering Tracer to his vengeful wrath. If Smokey didn’t do something soon to stop Oil Slick, he would surely be faced with a hostage situation that could only end badly for both of them.

Opening another comm line to Tracer, Smokescreen attempted to warn her of the impending danger: >>"Tracer! It’s Smokescreen outside! I think Oil Slick is using his chemical sprayers to eat through the hull of the shuttle. You need to be on guard in case he’s able to get inside! Do you read me, Trace? Are you there?! Tracer!!"<<

As was the case with his prior transmission to the troubled femme, Smokescreen heard no immediate response. He could only assume that she was okay and probably just reacting to the Syk in some way that prevented her from replying to him. At least, that’s what he hoped. But until he got inside the shuttle to see for himself, there was no telling what condition she was currently in. Regardless, he needed to act now before the dealer got to her first.

Exposing myself is not a good idea, but I have no other options, Smokescreen considered as he readied his electro-disruptor rifle. There was little to no cover to be had around the shuttle except for trees and other vegetation, but that would provide little protection from his adversary's arsenal of weaponry. Once he was out there, he’d be at the mercy of fate, and hopefully it would fall in his favor. The rallybot leaned his back against the boulder and took a deep breath before turning and peeking around the large rock once again. He could clearly see the toxic cloud getting bigger by the astrosecond. There was no time left to lose. It was now or never.

Primus be with me, Smokescreen thought as he off-lined his optics for a brief moment in a silent prayer before they glowed back to life again. Smokey then darted out from behind his cover, transforming into his 350Z alt mode and zooming towards the shuttle until he had reached the opposite side where Oil Slick quickly came into view. “Hey, Slick, try melting some of this!" The diversion expert yelled as he skidded his vehicle form around and unleashed another cloud of smoke at the chemical expert. It was a smaller plume than the last time, but he hoped it would be enough to at least stop the gangly mech’s assault on the shuttle and divert his attention away from Tracer.

Once the last of the black cloud was dispensed, the diversionary tactician reverted to robot mode and slowly backed away from the side of the shuttle with his rifle raised and ready for Oil Slick to possibly come charging through the magnetic smoke at any moment. “Come on, Slick! What are you waiting for? I’m right here! Can’t you see me?" The taunts were intended to anger the chemist even further so that he would be too blinded by rage to think clearly. Combine that with not being able to see clearly through the cloud, and Smokescreen thought he might actually have a chance to make a kill shot against the bane of Tracer's existence.

Oil Slick turned as he heard the roar of an engine coming towards him. A smile almost graced his face as he realized his plan had worked. He still expected the Autobot to avoid direct combat as best he could. All he needed was to buy time, to get him away from the shuttle so they could both escape. He would have to make sure to keep the battle close to the Autobot, ideally by crippling him quickly. Then he would be able to finish him off at his leisure, perhaps even using him as a bargaining tool against Tracer. At the very least he would get some small enjoyment from pounding his foe.

Smokescreen drove from around the shuttle and let out some annoying quip. Oil Slick was too focused on him to really notice it. The Autobot then belched out another one of the noxious clouds of magnet smoke, placing a barrier directly between them. A slight sneer passed over his face as the Autobot began egging him on. While Oil Slick was not primarily a warrior he was not a newcomer to battles. In addition, unlike so many other Decepticons, his anger did not control his actions. While the ember of rage inside of him grew brighter, it was still under control. He would not let it ignite until he was sure the Autobot could not escape. Then the Autobot would pay for his interference in a most painful manner.

The Decepticon raised his right arm and activated the chemical sprayer attached to it. A stream of corrosive acid shot out of the spray, sailing through the cloud of smoke to hit whatever was on the other side. Oil Slick jogged towards the cloud, moving his arm from side to side to douse everything on the other side of the cloud with the acid. Right before he ran into the cloud he jumped into the air, using his flight ability to sail over it. Landing on the other side of the cloud he produced his flail once again. Quickly whirling one end of it he lashed out with it, sending the spiked end flying towards the Autobot.

Smokescreen waited with baited breath for the Decepticon chemist to make his move as the cloud of magnetic smoke began to slowly dissipate in front of him. The sound of running on the other side caused Smokey to take a fighting stance with his electro-disruptor rifle drawn up and aimed at whatever would come charging through the black cloud. However, it was not Oil Slick, himself, that appeared through the dark fog, but a steady stream of destructive acid from the Syk dealer’s chemical emitter.

“Ah, fraggit!" Smokescreen cursed as he instinctively spun around and ducked down to avoid the corrosive compound as it was sprayed from side to side in a wide berth. Unfortunately, unlike a laser blast which would have sailed directly over him without incident, the liquid spray did not act in the same manner and began to lose altitude the further away from the source that it got. While the rallybot was able to evade a direct hit, his back was still covered by a residual mist that dropped down from the main stream as it passed over him. It was more than enough to begin eating away at his armor plating, sending an intense pain radiating across his entire back.

“Aaahhhhh!!!!!" The diversion expert screamed as he pounded the ground beneath him with his free hand while trying desperately to remain out of the still unseen Oil Slick’s direct line of fire. Once the chemical attack subsided, Smokescreen saw his chance to make a break for it and forced himself back to his feet, the pain only increasing as the acid ate further and further into his armor plating. The same kind of toxic fumes that had previously emanated from the shuttle was now rising from the rallybot’s own back. He needed to get away the chemist and back under cover as quickly as possible, but that was easier said than done under these circumstances.

As the diversion specialist staggered back and away from the magnetic cloud, Oil Slick came flying over it and landed in plain view of the retreating Autobot. The Syk dealer immediately flung his chain flail at Smokescreen, the spike-covered sphere slamming directly into the rallybot’s chest plate. The pain in his back had now become a secondary concern as an even greater agony enveloped Smokey’s front side, his vehicle mode’s headlights shattering into a hundred glass shards as the red and blue mech was propelled backwards by the force of the powerful strike.

Landing on his back at the edge of the clearing, Smokescreen cried out again in anguish as the pain receptors in his back rejoined the front ones in a symphony of torture and suffering. Laying there on the rocky ground, he peered up into the sky above and let out a deep sigh as his HUD showed the damage he had sustained thus far. “Ahhh, dammit..." was all that the fallen rallybot could utter as he tried to regain his focus on the deteriorating situation he now found himself in. A deep crater now adorned Smokey’s chest plate as he attempted to bring his rifle up but quickly realized that he no longer had possession of it, having lost his grip on it moments before.

Where....where is it? Smokescreen thought feverishly as he looked up to see Oil Slick slowly advancing on his position. Soon the Decepticon chemist would be on top of him to exact his dreadful revenge on the helpless rallybot. I’m not out yet. If I can only find my rifle....wait, there it is! Smokey glanced to his one side and found his weapon lying on the ground nearby. Now, all he had to do was reach it before the enraged Syk dealer reached him.

Trying to ignore the intense pain he was still in, Smokescreen stretched out with his right arm and managed to grab ahold of his electro-disruptor rifle. Bringing it up, he aimed the weapon at Oil Slick and fired off an unsteady shot, his arm shaking slightly. The rallybot didn’t expect it to do any good, but at least the dome-headed chemist was no longer bothering the shuttle or the femmebot inside.

>>"Tracer....this is Smoke...screen. I’m in trouble out here. Take off.....now!"<<

Oil Slick pulled his flail back after it impacted with Smokescreen. He felt a small sense of satisfaction about the hit. It was far from what some of the more warrior-like and brutal Decepticons might feel at the success of an attack, but for the chemist to feel much of anything was surprising. While some small part of him felt good about his attack, his more analytical side brushed it aside, urging for expediency. Time was still of the essence, both to cover for his absence and to prevent Tracer escaping without paying him.

The Decepticon leapt to the side as Smokscreen fired a clumsy shot off at him. Oil Slick raised his arm and fired off another stream of acid at the Autobot, hitting his right shoulder. As he grasped at the wound in pain the Decepticon stood up, twirling his weapon at his side. He spun around to gain more momentum before releasing the chain from his right hand, the other end still grasped in his left. The weapon swung up with tremendous force, smashing into Smokescreen’s acid weakened shoulder. There was a sound of crashing and tearing metal as the weapon punched through the metal connects of his arm. The limb was sent flying back as Oil Slick pulled his weapon back to him.

Oil Slick felt another flush of excitement at the attack, but quickly pushed it aside. He stalked up to the helpless Autobot and bashed his knee into his face to remove any remaining fight he might have in him. He then wrapped his left arm around him in a chokehold, pressing the acid sprayers attached to his right arm up against his head. He drug the smaller Autobot to the door of the shuttle.

"Tracer!" His tone was icy cold as he shouted out to her. “Exit the shuttle immediately, unarmed! You have broken the conditions of our arrangement. There will be a penalty for that, starting with the application of concentrated acids directly to the cranium of your associate should you delay exiting the vehicle!"

It felt as though she was unconscious for vorns so when she finally onlined her optics she was groggy and her surroundings seemed to be moving in unnatural ways. Tracer lifted her upper body up off the floor of the shuttle and placed her hand on her cranium. There was immense pain, a throb that seemed to grow with every movement. The scout let out a low moan and finally lifted the rest of her body up off the floor.

The mixture of Syk the chemist had provided was much more potent than any other version she was given. She had no idea how long she was out cold and sprawled on the floor. She carefully shuffled to one of the back chairs and flopped down. Another wave of cranial pain washed through her and she grabbed her head trying to make the ache go away.

Suddenly she remembered that she hadn’t made the trip to this location alone and she looked around the shuttle for some sign of who had accompanied her. Her optics narrowed as she tried desperately to recall. Razr had finally moved from under the table and stopped next to her chair. The turbofox placed a paw on her leg and cocked his head to the side as he regarded her.

Tracer looked down at her pet and flashed him a small smile. She stared at him for a moment before she perked up and looked to the door.

“Smokescreen."

The instant the mechs name slipped quietly from her lips she received a private communique. When she heard the diversion expert’s pain filled voice, Tracer shot up from the chair, anguish playing on her features. The message was ominous…too ominous. She quickly opened up a link with Smokescreen.

>>"I’m not leaving you! Not now!"<<

The femme grew quiet, but she kept the link open. Tracer looked around the shuttle, she knew she brought her weapon but she was having trouble finding….ah, there it is.

She scooped it up and started toward the sealed ramp. She raised her hand and began to lower her palm to the button but she suddenly stopped when she heard her name being called by Oil Slick. She pulled her hand away from its intended target and listened to the chemist.

The threat to use his acid sprayers of Smokescreen’s cranium caused Tracer’s hand to lose its grip on her weapon letting it fall to the floor. The thought of losing him to that maniac was almost too much to handle. She stood frozen in place, her body trembling as she pictured the damage Oil Slick would do.

>>"I’m coming out, Smokescreen. Just hold on a little longer."<<

Tracer took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. She raised her hand to the button and gently pushed. The hiss of the ramp filled the valley and once it was fully extended Tracer tossed out her weapon and slowly descended the shuttle with her hands raised up in the air. She looked down at her former dealer and his hostage. The scout took in a sharp intake of air at the sight of Smokescreen.

“Oh Primus. What have I done?" Her voice was too low for either mech to hear.

Tracer let the shocked expression fade as she addressed Oil Slick.

“Alright, Oil Slick. You have me, now let him go. I’m the one who broke the conditions of our arrangement. Take your anger out on me. Just, please, don’t hurt him anymore."